


Some People Like Sweater Vests

by lemonsorbae



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, First Kiss, Fluff, High School, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 13:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17488799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonsorbae/pseuds/lemonsorbae
Summary: “You said we were going for ice cream,” Castiel grumbles. The car is still idling, it’s not too late to pull out of the mile-long driveway and stop at Culver’s, but Ruby’s wearing her black leather jacket which means she never had any intention of taking Castiel for ice cream in the first place.CW for unintentional drug use ("special" brownies)





	Some People Like Sweater Vests

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally written and posted Oct 3rd, 2014.](https://rosegoldrebels-archive.tumblr.com/post/99089367194/some-people-like-sweater-vests)

Castiel stares up at the house looming over them. It’s hulking, just like everyone at school says it is, and swarming with his peers, like drunk, horny bees in a hive.

“You said we were going for ice cream,” Castiel grumbles. The car is still idling, it’s not too late to pull out of the mile-long driveway and stop at Culver’s, but Ruby’s wearing her black leather jacket which means she never had any intention of taking Castiel for ice cream in the first place.

He should have known her eye liner was too thick for two scoops of mint chocolate chip on a sugar cone.

“I’m sure Crowley has ice cream somewhere in that mansion.” Ruby shoots him a coy smile, and Castiel glares back at her.

He could be at home studying and watching re-runs of the Wonder Years. Instead he’s belted into his best friend’s ‘87 Volvo with the sounds of teenagers making terrible life decisions permeating the air.

Castiel folds his arms over his chest and frowns out the front window. “I’ll wait in the car.”

“Cas you can’t wait in the car, it’s freezing.”

“Well I won’t be going inside, that’s for sure. Really, Ruby, you could have come alone instead of dragging me along under false pretenses.”

Ruby rolls her eyes, a gesture barely visible in the dark, and shakes her head. “This is why you’re still a virgin, Cas. You wanna get some, you need to start making appearances at parties. And maybe stop wearing sweater vests.” She plucks at the navy blue and grey argyle sweater vest Castiel wears, and he swats her hand away.

“My sweater vests happen to be very functional. And what makes you think I have anything wrong with still being a virgin?’

"I don’t know, maybe the fact that you’re a sixteen year old boy? C'mon, Cas, don’t try and tell me you don’t have a ton of raging hormones racing through that tightly wound body of yours. Sex might do you some good, loosen you up a bit.”

“There’s more to life than sex, Ruby,” Castiel grouses. "Besides, it's not as if virginity has an Best If Used By date." He knows the statement will fall upon deaf ears, especially if the way Ruby’s touching up her lip gloss in the visor mirror is anything to go by, but he feels it needs saying anyway.

Ruby sighs. “Whatever you say, angel,” She flips her visor closed and fixes her brown eyes on him, “but I’m going into that party. You can either sit out here and freeze, or you can come in for awhile and relax, okay? It’s up to you. But I’m taking the keys; I don’t trust you not to leave me here the second I step foot in that house.”

The car falls silent and Castiel pointedly ignores the feel of his best friend’s gaze boring into the side of his face. After a beat her door squeaks open and cool air bursts into the vehicle, leeching what was left of the warmth the heater had provided on the ride over. “You coming or not?” Ruby asks. Castiel knows she’ll leave him in the car just like she says she will, and while that definitely sounds more appealing than watching his peers play beer pong and make out with each other, it  _is_  quite cold outside.

Castiel sighs self deprecatingly; “Fine,” and climbs out of the car, slamming the door behind him hard enough for Ruby to know he’s less than pleased with the night’s events.

As they make their way up the walk Ruby wraps an arm around Castiel’s neck and pulls him close, kissing him messily in his wild hair. “I knew you’d get over being a prude  _someday_!”

Castiel shoves her off good naturedly. “I’m not a prude. I’m an introvert. They’re different.”

“Yeah, well, whatever you wanna call it, it was getting a little boring, 'eh, Cas?”

Castiel huffs. “There better be ice cream,” he tells her.

Ruby winces as they walk through the door. “Don’t get your hopes up, kiddo.”

Inside the music is loud, the heavy base of it beating out an anxious tattoo against Castiel’s bones. He looks around, taking in what appears to be every member of the student body of Kripke High inside Crowley’s home.

“What am I supposed to do now that I’m here?” Castiel asks, shouting over the music.

“Have fun! Drink beer, talk to people, find a guy who’ll blow you in a corner!”

Castiel scoffs, and Ruby snickers. She reaches out and squeezes his hand, and then she’s sauntering off towards her latest conquest and leaving Castiel to shift on his feet and gape awkwardly at people on his own.

He stands in the entry way, contemplating going back out to the car, until he’s stampeded into the kitchen by a group of giggly cheerleaders.

“ _Castiel Novak_?” One of them pipes up, eyeing him with wide, heavily lined eyes. Castiel knows she attends his school, but he can’t quite put a name to her face.

“Yes?”

“I never thought I’d see the day the president of the  _Bible Club_  shows up at one of  _Crowley’s_  parties.” She’s shaking her head now and there’s a grin stretched across her face like seeing Castiel at a party is a magic trick preformed right before her eyes.

“Oh.”

The cheerleader holds out a napkin with two brownies piled on top of it. They smell fresh, but Castiel eyes them curiously. “Here,” she says, “you gotta try Bass’ brownies. They’re the best.”

“Aaron Bass makes brownies?” Castiel questions.

“The best,” she repeats. She pushes the brownies into Castiel’s hands and winks at him as she’s whisked away by the other cheerleaders.

Castiel blinks down at the brownies.

~

Turns out that girl was right. Aaron Bass does make the best brownies.

They’re so good, in fact, Castiel can’t stop smiling about them. Not that he’d want to, brownies as good as those are definitely something to smile about, but he’s never particularly been one to smile over desserts.

He wanders around the party aimlessly, observing juniors, and Mathletes, and student council members when he bumps into someone and stumbles forward, saved from plummeting to embarrassment only by a warm hand gripping his shoulder.

“You okay?” A voice above him asks.

The hand remains as Castiel rights himself and straightens his sweater vest, and when Castiel finally lifts his gaze to apologize he finds himself blinking into the concerned green eyes of the center forward for Kripke high’s soccer team, and the object of his deepest, most secret fantasies: Dean Winchester.

“Dean,” Castiel breathes. He and Dean share math together, and while Castiel has mapped out every freckle on Dean’s face, every hair on his head, he doubts the other teen even knows Castiel exists.

“Cas?”

Or maybe he does know Castiel exists…

“Yes, it’s me,” Castiel offers, lazy smile climbing back to his face.

Dean’s smile is wide. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“I wasn’t going to be, but Ruby told me we were going for ice cream and I was dumb enough to believe her.” There’s no malice behind the words, and actually, Castiel feels like he could hug Ruby right now for dragging him along.

“Ah,” Dean says with a nod of his head.

The two of them grow quiet, Castiel’s eyes drinking in Dean’s face (which is even more attractive in the shadows of the house than it is under the fluorescent lighting of room 321) and Dean shoving his hands in the pocket of his jeans.

“I like your sweater vest,” Dean finally offers weakly. He sounds like he means it, but also like he’s afraid to admit it.

Castiel nods. “Thank you. Ruby says my sweater vests are the reason I’m still a virgin.”

It’s hard to tell in the dim lighting of the hallway, but it looks like Dean’s cheeks flush a light shade of pink at the statement. “I doubt that’s true,” he says.

“Yes, because how could an article of clothing be responsible for me having or not having sex? It’s an inanimate object, it has no sway over what others want to do to me.”

Castiel feels like he’s talking more than usual, definitely talking more than he should be, but he can’t stop. Or doesn’t want to. He isn’t sure at this point, the line is too blurred.

Dean swallows hard, and Castiel fights the urge to reach out a hand and run it over the soft looking leather of Dean’s red jacket.

“I dunno, I think your sweater vests may have  _some_  effect on people.”

Castiel squints, “Like what?”

Dean shrugs and shifts on his feet, nervous for reasons Castiel cannot decipher. “Like maybe some people  _like_  the way they look on you. They might find it hot, even.”

Castiel casts a glance down at himself. He’s never heard anyone refer to his attire as 'hot’ before, not in the sense he assumes Dean means it anyway.

“You really think so?” he asks, looking back up and catching Dean’s gaze trailing his figure. Dean’s eyes snap back to Castiel’s, flooded with embarrassment.

“Yeah, I mean, you know; some people. Maybe.”

Castiel nods knowingly at Dean. “Some people might think things about you, too.” He suggests.

Dean’s smile is lopsided, his arms going to cross over his chest as he leans his weight against the wall. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

Castiel grins again. “They might think you have the tightest ass at Kripke High and attend every one of your games just to watch you play. Or they might make constellations out of your freckles when Mr. Turner’s lessons get too boring, or maybe they get irritated because they can’t figure out the exact green of your eyes.”

Dean lets out an unsteady laugh and scratches at his arm, “That’s pretty specific,” he says.

Castiel sways into Dean’s personal space, his eyes falling half lidded. He feels happy, lazy, like he could float up to the ceiling at any moment and just hang there until he deflates. “Some people think very specifically when they think of you.”

He notices the way Dean’s eyes flick down to his lips, but he doesn’t know  _what it means_. In any sense, watching Dean’s thick lashes is very distracting and they’re what he blames for what topples out of his mouth next. “Some people probably really want to kiss you.” It’s spoken quietly, like the cloaked confession it is, and Castiel blinks up at Dean, waiting for him to respond.  

Dean smirks at him, all vibrato and faux calm. “Well, maybe some people should then.”

Castiel stares hard at Dean, his head tipped to the side, his feet rooted to the spot. “We need a dark corner,” he finally says, remembering Ruby’s words. He has no intention of 'being blown’ in said corner, but kissing Dean in a dark corner sounds nice.

“Uh-” Dean looks around. He takes a couple of steps backwards and twists a door handle on the right, the door swings open and Dean pokes his head inside. “How 'bout a dark closet?”

Castiel nods. “That will be sufficient.” He pushes Dean into the closet, following closely behind, and shuts the door behind them, enveloping them in darkness.

It’s a fairly large closet, mostly used for storage, Castiel supposes, and he pushes Dean along until the other teen’s shoulders hit a wall. “Sit down,” Castiel commands. He’s never kissed anyone before, but he’s definitely had his ideas of how it would go when he finally did, and tonight he’s going to make those ideas reality.

“What?”

“Yes, on the ground. Sit down.”

Dean obeys, sliding to the ground, his legs flung out in front of him, and Castiel straddles his hips, resting his weight in Dean’s lap. Dean’s hands find Castiel’s hips and rest there, their weight comfortable over Castiel’s sweater vest, the one Dean implied was  _hot_.

Castiel places his hands on Dean’s shoulders and wishes for some light. He wants to see Dean’s freckles, his eyes, the movement of his lashes when he blinks. Instead he focuses on Dean’s scent, something earthy, and clean, soap, maybe a little bit of aftershave.

“Pretty sure of yourself, huh, Cas?” Dean mutters. Castiel can’t see the other teen’s smile, but he can hear it.

“I’ve never done this before,” Castiel admits.

“Trust me,” Dean says, “you’re off to a great start.”

When their lips meet, it’s  _nice_. Like a summer breeze blowing through tall grass, or a clear nighttime sky, littered with stars and lit by a fat, silvery moon.

Everyone always talks about fireworks, and sparks, but this, this is what Castiel always imagined. Something slow, easy, comfortable. Perfect. And maybe that’s the brownies talking, or maybe it’s really Castiel, but either way, as far as first kisses go, Castiel considers himself lucky this is his.

“Your lips are soft,” Castiel murmurs.

“Thanks.”

Castiel moves in again, his nose bumping Dean’s. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Cas. Just, here-” Dean’s hands leave his hips and come to cup either side of Castiel’s face. Castiel allows his head to be tipped slightly to the side, and then Dean is pulling him in again, gently.

This new angle feels even better, and after a beat Castiel feels the warm, wet slide of Dean’s tongue moving along the seam of his lips. Castiel pulls away for a moment, startled at how good it feels, and Dean stills.

“Sorry, too much?” he asks.

Castiel shakes his head even though he knows it can’t be seen, and delves back in, mouth open and ready as it seals over Dean’s.

Dean lets out a small grunt, and then he’s tugging at Castiel’s sweater vest, pushing at the small of his back, kissing him in a way that has stars sparking beneath Castiel’s eyelids.

These must be the fireworks everyone talks about.

Castiel gives in to basic instinct and presses into Dean, his mouth following Dean’s lead happily.

It’s suddenly warm in the closet, every place his and Dean’s hands land on each other searing, like a brand left by their fingerprints.

“You sure you’ve never done this before?” Dean pants, nipping at Castiel’s lips and rubbing his hands up and down Castiel’s ribcage.

“Unless I’ve somehow forgotten, which isn’t likely, I’m sure.”

Dean lets out a chuckle.

They kiss until their lips are swollen, sore from all the attention they’re getting, and slowly the heat between them dissipates, a lighter feeling rising up between them.

Their kisses turn lazy, slow, and then stop altogether, the two of them just breathing in each other’s air and smiling like idiots.

“Some people think kissing you is one of the best feelings they’ve ever felt,” Castiel says, dropping one last peck to Dean’s lips then letting his heavy head settle in the crook of Dean’s shoulder. He’s suddenly very tired and thinks if neither of them say anything or move for even just a minute or two, he can probably fall asleep right here.

One of Dean’s hands comes to rest at the back of Castiel’s neck, his nails scratching along Castiel’s hairline, and Castiel lets out a sigh. “Some people want to do this again real soon.” Dean says.

“Okay, but first, a nap.”

Dean laughs, a gentle push of air, and curls an arm around Castiel’s waist. “I should get you home, actually.”

“Mmmmmm.”

“C'mon,” Dean says. He pushes Castiel into an upright position and then helps Castiel stand without falling over.

“Can we please get a burger first? I’m extremely hungry.”

“Did you eat one of Aaron’s brownies?” Dean wonders as he straightens Castiel’s clothing and ruffles his hair.

“No,” Castiel responds with a frown, “I ate  _two_.”

“That explains a lot,” Dean mutters. He takes Castiel’s hand and leads him out of the closet, both of them blinking in the harsh light of the hallway. It’s still dim, but compared to the darkness they were just in, it’s an adjustment.

The house seems to have gotten louder, even more people milling about than when Castiel arrived, and Castiel follows Dean with a goofy smile on his face, his head swimming in a daze. He really wants to just lie down and sleep.

As they make their way to the front door, Ruby is nowhere in sight, but Castiel reasons he’ll text her when he gets home.

Dean helps Castiel into his shiny, black muscle car, the one Castiel has watched disappear out of the high school parking lot on numerous occasions, and instructs him to buckle up before closing the door.

On the way home, Castiel rolls his window down, the brisk night air soothing against his skin. He sticks a hand outside, letting the air slice through the spaces between his fingers, and then slumps back in his seat. “I’m going to lie down now,” Castiel tells Dean.

Dean nods and Castiel sprawls himself across the front seat, his head landing in Dean’s lap, an arm draped over Dean’s knee. Dean starts and then immediately relaxes, moving to comb a hand through Castiel’s hair.

As Dean’s beast of a car eats up highway, Castiel’s eyes slide closed and everything goes black.

~

When Castiel awakes the next day his brain feels like it’s full of cobwebs. He lets out a groan and rubs his hands over his face, catching sight of blocky black ink on his forearm. He holds it up and waits for his eyes to adjust before reading; CAS, CALL ME. WANT TO MAKE SURE THE BROWNIES DIDN’T DO YOU IN. -DEAN. (913) 479-8282

Last night floats back to him lazily, the edges hazy, slipping away from him like a dream, and Castiel grapples for his cell phone, dialing Dean’s number.

When the other teen answers, Castiel can hear the smile in his voice.

“Cas?”

“Dean,” Castiel responds.

“I almost thought you wouldn’t call,” Dean admits.

Castiel breathes a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. He must have come off as such a jerk the night before. “Dean, I should apologize about last night.”

“What do you mean 'apologize’?”

“I was very forward, and inappropriate, and I’m sorry.”

A laugh sounds over the line and Castiel frowns.

“Cas, I’ve been hoping you’d be 'inappropriate’ with me for awhile now.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I mean, not that what we did was inappropriate, but. Been wanting you to notice me.”

“Dean, I noticed you a long time ago.”

Dean chuckles. “I know that now. After what you said about going to all of my games, and that thing about my ass…”

Castiel flushes, grateful he’s alone in his bedroom. “Though I’m ashamed of the circumstances under which that was admitted, I don’t retract my statement. You do have a very nice ass.”

“Thanks, Cas. Yours is really great too.”

Castiel’s brain short circuits as he tries to process the fact that he’s on the phone with Dean Winchester receiving compliments on his ass. “Thank you,” he finally says.

“So, listen. Last night was awesome, but I’d kinda like to do things the proper way and take you out on a real date before letting you jump my bones again.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of Castiel’s mouth. “I’d like that.”

“Awesome, I’ll pick you up this afternoon?”

“Okay.”

“And Cas?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“You know that grey sweater vest of yours? The one with the buttons, and the pockets?”

“Yes.”

There’s a beat before Dean reveals, “That one’s my favorite.”

When Castiel hangs up the phone he’s practically beaming. He considers thanking Ruby for dragging him to the party, otherwise he and Dean would still be oblivious to each other’s feelings, but instead all he says to her is,  _I’ll have you know, Some People happen to like my sweater vests._


End file.
